


never quite eden

by Anonymous



Category: Taskmaster (UK TV) RPF
Genre: Blow Jobs, Daddy Kink, Handcuffs, Humiliation, Kneeling, M/M, Spanking, it's not MUCH but its THERE and im SO sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-12
Updated: 2020-01-12
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:44:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22230412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: James can't stop thinking about Greg Davies. He also can't stop thinking about Alex Horne. He can't stop thinking about Greg Davies and Alex Horne.
Relationships: Greg Davies/Alex Horne, James Acaster/Alex Horne, James Acaster/Greg Davies
Comments: 5
Kudos: 52
Collections: Anonymous





	never quite eden

**Author's Note:**

> i JUST wanted to write porn and unexpectedly started having actual angsty feelings about james acaster. uh. it's still mostly kinky shit tho.  
also just fyi it's all consensual but is ALSO very under negotiated! don't do this shit in real life!

Never quite Eden, but not quite yet wild.  
We take what we're given and we hold it awhile.  
But I don't think this garden would bloom half as sweet on its own,  
And I don't want to walk it alone.

\- Heather Dale, Never Quite Eden

* * *

James can still feel the weight of Greg’s arm over his shoulders. He knows what Greg was saying was a joke, played up for the audience, and it had been funny, absolutely. But at the same time, this show is - it’s bringing out something in him he only vaguely understood was part of his psyche. He wonders if it’s that way for everyone - he talked to Josh about it plenty, but Josh had only said how humiliating some of the tasks were and how fun it was to get some of his own back on Alex when he had the chance, and how funny Greg was during handing out points.

He hadn’t said anything about the weird jealous swooping James would feel every time Alex did something increasingly ridiculous during Rhod’s tasks, or onstage with Greg. Josh had said nothing about how flustered the tasks made you; how you absolutely lost your mind and started swinging wildly and praying something would hit the mark. Had Josh replayed Greg’s hands on him as he’d won, or took him aside to caution him, or - no, Greg hadn’t done that for Josh, had he. Josh was an angel, of course he hadn’t had to be warned. Not like James. Or, fuck, like Alex. He doesn’t know how Alex does it. Of course, Taskmaster is his show - he’ll do a lot to make sure it’s successful, of course, but. Rhod had him naked or tied up or some combination of the two at least once an episode. James can’t imagine - he’d have chickened out well before he let some man twice his age take his pants off, but Alex seemed to accept it all with a kind of matter-of-fact equanimity, just like he took everything Greg handed out on stage.

James squirms a little bit in his seat. He’s supposed to be calling Josh to go over the schedule for filming Hypothetical, but in fact he’s still sat in the pub around the corner from the Taskmaster house, thinking about his - coworker’s arm around his shoulders. He’s trying his damn best not to think about his own reaction to it any more than he possibly can, but every time his mind even touches on it, his body leaps ahead, going hot and cold by turns and making something strange happen to his stomach. It’s making him a bit upset, actually. Obviously Alex Horne is some kind of weird masochist, to put up with all the shit that gets thrown at him on the show and literally ask for more - for fuck’s sake, he  _ writes _ half of this into it - but James isn’t like that. He doesn’t want to crawl around on stage and beg Greg for affection, or be tied to a chair and left there, or sleep in a dog bed, or whatever the fuck. He’s just a normal bloke who hasn’t gotten off with someone else in months, because his girlfriend broke things off and he’s been too busy trying to see the point to life to bother picking up. That’s the only reason his cock’s getting a bit hard remembering Greg flipping him upside down as easily as he might flip his pillow.

He scowls down at his pint, hands rubbing uneasily at his thighs. He’d know by now, surely, if he had - if he were fucked up, like Alex. He’s used handcuffs with his girlfriend, some of those pink fluffy ones, and they’d snapped as soon as she’d put the least amount of strain on them. They’d had a good laugh about it, he remembers, and they hadn’t bothered again. Their sex life was perfectly fine as it was. Well, at least he’d thought it was, until she sat him down and - anyway.

James is a normal bloke, is the point. So what if sometimes he goes back and watches certain clips from earlier seasons of Taskmaster, ones where Alex is being punished for helping someone cheat or someone’s humiliating him with cake or he’s sitting on Greg’s lap and calling him - 

It’s just because of how frustrated he is with Alex, is all, and how unhelpful he’d been during all the tasks, and what a little suck up he was to Greg all the time. He sort of wishes he’d been meaner during the tasks, even if a little voice in his head reminds him he definitely wasn’t  _ kind _ during them. He shakes it off, thudding his head back against the pub wall. The pressure feels unexpectedly nice, like it’s shaking all the swirling thoughts in his head up and then making them settle down in the dim, quiet part of his brain for a while. He closes his eyes and does it again.

Before he can do it a third time, there’s a large hand inserted between his head and the wall, and a deep, amused voice says, “You know that kills off brain cells, don’t you?”

He opens his eyes, that weird twisting thing in his stomach lurching again, to see Greg Davies crouching over him. He’s smiling, but he looks a little concerned. “You all right, James?”

“Don’t need many brain cells to read off an autocue three nights a week,” James says dully. “What are you doing here, Greg? I thought you never came to the Taskmaster house.”

Greg’s hand is still cradling the back of his head. James wishes he wouldn’t. It’s stirring up the swirling thoughts again. 

“Got some logistics stuff to work out with Alex.”

“Sure.” James isn’t wondering what logistics is code for, if it’s code for anything, or if it’s just James’ deranged thoughts that won’t fucking  _ settle _ like fuck’s sake if his brain doesn’t shut up for  _ one _ shitdamn second - he reaches for his pint and realises his wrists are all scratched up, long red lines clawed in them. He tugs his sleeves down over them, risking a glance at Greg, hoping he didn’t see.

Greg saw. He sits down beside James, 27 stone of him tilting the whole bench his way. The back of James’ neck feels cold where Greg’s hand isn’t. He hunches over his pint, eyes trying to fix firmly on it but inevitably darting to look at Greg.

“Are you sure you’re all right?”

“Sure, sure. I’m fine. Just tired, you know how it is.”

“Mmm.” Greg doesn’t sound like James’ light tone has convinced him of anything besides James’ idiocy. “James. Look at me.” 

It’s his Taskmaster voice, the one he uses to dole out points and the one he used when he told James to just “apologise and they’d say no more about it”. James’ head comes up before he’s even thought, and he holds Greg’s eyes for a good ten seconds before they’re away again, ranging over the table, the tins on the walls, the sunbeam filtering through a lead-paned window and illuminating the dust on the ledge opposite them.

“If you want pain, there are healthier ways to get it.”

James scoffs. “Oh, right; I should let you humiliate me and smack me around in public like  _ Alex  _ does, right?”

“Certainly not.” Greg reaches out and takes both of James’ arms in his hands, turning back the sleeves and examining the scratches with an almost absentminded air. “You’re not into degradation at all, and I sincerely doubt you’d do well with any kind of public play.”

“I - what?” It’s so far from anything James thought Greg was going to say. It’s not ‘I’m taking you to hospital’ or ‘I’m  _ worried _ about you’ or ‘keep your abnormally long nose out of my business’. Greg’s talking like - like what he and Alex have is something normal, something people just go around talking about in pubs like they’re discussing telly or the weather.

“No, you definitely just need someone to take you in hand, I think. An hour or so of chastity wouldn’t do you any harm either.”

“Is this a joke? Some extra for the show? Because let me tell you; it’s not funny.”

“I’m not joking.” Greg is far,  _ far _ too calm. He’s looking over his glasses at James, and that same concern from earlier is still there, and he’s still fucking holding onto James’ arms, and his fingers are so shitting big; it’s like James’s arms are toothpicks. “Come to the house with me. Let me take care of you for a while.”

“I’m a  _ grown man _ ,” James snaps, pulling his arms away with a jerk. “And besides, I don’t think Alex will like that very much.”

“Alex will do as I say,” Greg says, coolly. “It’s up to you, of course. But I would like to help you, if I can.”

James hesitates. “Like - sexually?”

“I think I might be able to help your mind settle a bit.” Greg smiles. “It may or may not involve you getting to touch your dick.”

“What does that - but you’re going to touch it, right? Or -” He can’t stop the slow smile creeping over his face. “Or Alex will. Are you going to make Alex jerk me off?”

Greg sits back a little, eyebrows raised. “What a little sadist  _ you’re _ turning out to be. Would you like Alex to give you a hand job?”

James thinks about that, thinks about Alex murmuring ‘all the information is on the task’ about two hundred times a day and how it made him just want to scream by the end, and he thinks about Alex having to jerk him off because Greg said to, and then he thinks perhaps he doesn’t want Alex to be able to use his hands at all, or talk, for that matter. “I’d rather have a suck, if I’m honest.”

Greg laughs. “Well, little James, no one can say you haven’t got a mean streak. Come along, then.”

“Come - what, sorry?” 

“To the house, of course.” Greg raises his eyebrows again. “Or didn’t you just say you wanted a blowjob?”

“Well - yeah, but I didn’t think - right now?”

“Unless you’ve somewhere else to be?” Greg looks pointedly at his empty pint glass.

James wishes Greg weren’t looking at him so closely and he could get away with a good scratch to his wrist. “Aren’t you going to - check with Alex, or anything?”

Greg looks vastly amused by this, and simply repeats, “Alex will do as I say. Now. Are you coming or not, James?”

It’s the voice again; his Taskmaster voice, and James feels inexorably drawn. Besides. A blowjob’s a blowjob, and if it really makes his brain shut up for half a second it’ll be worth it for sure. Silently, he throws down a tenner and stands.

* * *

“Hello, Greg.” Alex is sitting in the library of the Taskmaster house, looking as unruffled as always. “Hello, James.” 

James knows for a fact Greg hadn’t texted Alex. He hadn’t texted him. There’s absolutely no bloody reason Alex should be this calm about an unexpected visitor. For God’s sake, the man is in his pants and nothing else! He should be blushing or stammering or - or putting some trousers on or  _ something _ .

“Hello, Alex.” Greg is smiling in the particular way he does when he’s especially pleased with himself. “You’ll never guess what James is here for.”

“No?” Alex looks mildly surprised by this. “Well, then, I suppose you’ll have to tell me.”

“I will tell you. He’s here for you to give him a blowjob.”

Surely, James thinks,  _ surely _ now Alex will react in some logical fashion. Laugh, or go red in the face and ask Greg what the hell he’s talking about, or call the police, or run screaming from the room. None of this happens. What happens is, Greg says, “He’s here for you to give him a blowjob” and Alex says, “Lovely. Will you be having me at the same time or no?”

“Oh, no, I don’t think so. I want to enjoy the visual in full, because I think our James intends on being quite rough.”

“I do like it rough,” Alex says thoughtfully. “Are you going to restrain me?”

“I haven’t decided yet. Let’s ask James. James, would you like Alex restrained in any way, or do you want his hands free to assist?”

James is looking from one to the other in complete disbelief. They’re both mad, is what it is. Either that or this really is the Matrix and he’s going to discover there’s been a glitch in it at any second. Glitch or not, his cock has already made up it’s mind what it thinks, and what it thinks is that it would quite like to see Alex Horne, his hands tied behind his back, choking on James’ cock. And if this is only going to happen the once; well, he’s not going to be fool enough to turn it down. 

“Tied up.” He watches closely, watching for any sort of reaction or sign that Alex might resent his choice or is upset with him, but Alex, the cold fish, only nods and rummages in the large steamer trunk in front of the couch that James is positive that was  _ not _ there while they were filming. Alex emerges with a pair of cuffs. They’re black leather - perfectly utilitarian, with two d-rings set in them. A snap hook dangles from one of them. Alex offers them to Greg, turning around and waiting patiently as Greg buckles them on and snaps the loose end of the hook onto the connecting d-ring.

“All right, then.” Greg pushes Alex to his knees. “Let’s give the people what they want, Alex.”

“The people, in this case, being James Acaster?” Alex says, just as unruffled as he is when cueing up the next task video. James is going to ruin that calm if it’s the last thing he does. He undoes his trousers and pushes his briefs down and pulls out his cock, half hard since Greg offered to take care of him. He doesn’t waste any time; he plants both hands on Alex’s head and hauls him onto his dick. 

Alex chokes; recovers, chokes again, gagging beautifully. James feels a surge of pleasure that has as much to do with the tears already clustering in Alex’s eyes as it was to do with the mouth on his cock. 

“Yeah, take it,” he pants, reduced to cliches in order to keep himself from just moaning. “Choke on my cock, fuck.”

Greg is watching from the chair across the room, still with that faintly amused expression on his face. He’s half hard in his slacks but makes no move to touch himself. “Do you like that, Alex?” Greg asks, head a little on one side. “Does it feel good, finally getting a cock like you’ve been gagging for all day? Almost cried, didn’t you, when I went out this morning without letting you have a taste of mine. You don’t feel right without a cock in one of your greedy holes; isn’t that right.”

Alex, obviously, can’t answer from where his nose is pressed against James’ pubic bone, but the casual tone of Greg’s voice combined with the absolute filth of what he’s saying has James closer to the edge far sooner than he’d like. He hauls Alex off his cock, feeling almost feverish as he demands, “Answer him.”

“I -” Alex pauses; coughs, tries again: “I love it. I need something, all the time.”

“Fuck but you’re a cock hungry little slut,” James says, wonderingly, and pulls Alex’s mouth back down again, groaning as his dick slips straight into Alex’s throat. “You must’ve done this so many times to get this good. Fuck, ‘s like a glove, just tight and hot and perfect. You just stay there and  _ take _ it, don’t even bat an eye. Shit. You’re filthy.”

“Just a filthy little slag,” Greg sing-songs, “Little Alex Horne, little filthy slag. James wanted to humiliate you, you know. He pretty much said it straight out; how much he wants to see you a mess, begging for cock. I had to laugh, really; he doesn’t know the half of it, does he. How much the things you did for the show turn you on. How it’s true; you really would like to sit on my lap the whole show and then curl up in a dog bed.”

“He would, wouldn’t he. Filthy beast. Why is that so hot, fuck, you’re gonna make me come.”

“Ease up, James, I don’t want you coming quite yet.”

James stiffens, reflexively resenting the order. He’s got Alex on his knees for him, hasn’t he?  _ He’s _ the one with the power over when Alex can breathe or if he can breathe at all. Sure there’s a sickish roiling in his stomach at the thought of disobeying Greg so completely, but why should he have to stop just when he’s about to come. He darts a furtive look at Greg, scowling. “I’ll come when I like,” he snaps.

Greg merely looks at him calmly. “If you do, you’ll regret it,” he says simply.

James feels another twinge of unease, but the desire to come down Alex Horne’s throat is far stronger, and he buries himself to the hilt and throws his head back, finally letting himself find release. Panting, he glares at Greg, riding Alex’s throat through the aftershocks. “And what are you going to do about it?” He demands.

Greg’s eyebrows go up. “Oh I’ll show you what I’m going to do about it. Alex, heel.”

James can’t help but cry out as his cock is left coldly bereft as Alex pulls away at once and stumbles, still on his knees, to collapse at Greg’s feet. Greg leans over, stroking a hand over Alex’s head and down his shoulder. “Good boy.”

Oh, that rankles.  _ Alex _ getting petted and called a good boy, a good little suck up, and  _ James _ is left out in the cold watching again. 

Then Greg looks at him. “Come here, James.”

His legs feel like Jaffa Cakes dissolving in a cup of tea, but it doesn’t occur to him not to obey. The sick feeling in his stomach has grown, and he wants it gone. 

“Come on, then,” Greg spreads his legs. “Across my lap.”

James stops. “Across your - no. No. What are you going to - No! You’re not my dad!”

“Oh, I know that. And trust me, I’m incredibly thankful for that blessing. But I’ll be giving you a spanking just the same.” His eyebrows go up again. “If you want to call me Daddy while you’re being punished, that’s entirely up to you.”

The sick feeling has transposed to one that reminds him of the time he shotgunned a whole packet of poprocks on a dare and felt them fizzing in his mouth and stomach for hours afterwards. He doesn’t - it’s not - how can Greg just - he’s not some weird pervert, he’s  _ not _ , but a hot flush is rushing through him, and - 

“Hey,” Greg interrupts, his voice softer, “James. There’s nothing wrong with it, if you do. It doesn’t make you sick, or twisted, or whatever you’re thinking. As long as everyone involved is fine with it, and obviously I am.”

“And Alex?”

“Alex did it on stage in front of God knows how many people. He’s fine.”

James hesitates. “I’ll - think about it.”

“You can take all the time you need for that. Your punishment, however, is happening now.”

Any remnant of defiance James had left in him has been sapped by the horrifying realization that he wants, quite badly, to call Greg Davies ‘Daddy’. He meekly arranges himself over Greg’s lap, hissing a little when his still sensitive cock brushes Greg’s trousers.

“Oh, you’ll be feeling worse than that in a minute, my boy.”

James whines, the sound emerging entirely without his consent at Greg’s possessive. He can see Alex, still curled around Greg’s feet, looking at him, and he clamps his mouth shut. No more noises.

That resolve lasts until the first blow descends on his arse. He yelps, hands flying automatically to protect himself, but Greg catches both wrists in one hand and brings his other hand down again. It’s probably not as hard as James thinks it is, but the combination of his own shame and more uncomfortable realisations than he would have ever liked to know about himself is making each blow feel like it’s going to the very core of him.

“Please,” he gets out after the fourth or fifth hit, “No, it hurts, please.”

“It’s a punishment,” Greg says, not even sounding winded, the bastard, “And you ought to be grateful. When I punish Alex I make him keep count and ask for more.”

“You bastard,” James breathes.

Greg just laughs. “That’s another dozen on top of the twenty you already owe me, boy.” 

The next crack of Greg’s hand across his arse hurts, yes, but there’s something kindling low in his stomach at the residual heat. It feels - well, not good. Obviously. It can’t possibly feel good, getting your arse beat, but. He tries to squirm a little, just to test, but Greg just holds him tighter, dealing out two hard smacks in quick succession. “Be a good boy and stay  _ still _ , James.”

He tries. Really he does, but no sooner are the first fifteen swats dealt than Greg begins to go back over territory he’s already covered, deepening the sting and burn with each blow. Between the desire to stay still for Greg and the natural impulse to squirm away and the overwhelmed feeling he’s been battling for God knows how long, he finds again to his horror that his shame can deepen, because he’s begun to cry.

Greg pauses at the first sob, and at first James thinks that’s it; he’s going to let him off the rest of it, but all he does is adjust James’ lax body across his lap, letting go of James’ wrists in order to put one heavy hand over one shoulder and part of his neck, and then he’s continuing, steady spanks with very little time to rest in between them. James doesn’t try to resist any further, merely letting himself bawl like an infant, tears and snot dripping onto the carpet at Greg’s feet.

“There’s a good boy,” Greg says, and the hand on his shoulder rubs a little. “That’s it, just let it all out. Alex, give him a little kiss.”

Ever obedient, Alex kneels up, maneuvering himself awkwardly into position and swallowing James’ next sob in his mouth. It’s comforting, the warm mouth on his, and even the steady spanking has faded into a sort of dull overall achy burn. He can only lay there and take it, and hope that he’s taking it well enough to make Greg happy with him. 

He hardly even notices when the spanking stops. He’s still crying, but more leakily now than actual sobs, and Alex is still kissing him very gently. He notices when that stops, because Greg is gently picking him up and settling him securely on his lap, gathering him in close and murmuring all sorts of soft nonsense he doesn’t register the meaning of for several minutes. 

Once it does, his whole body flushes as red as he imagines his arse must be. 

“...a good boy for Daddy,” Greg says - no,  _ croons _ . “So good for me, took your spanking so well, didn’t you? Now we’re feeling better, aren’t we, yes. Just needed to let some of that stress out. I understand how it is, sometimes Daddy’s little boy just needs to act up a little so Daddy will take him in hand.”

James thinks about protesting. He thinks about flailing his way out of Greg’s arms and insisting once again that he’s nothing like these weirdos, and he’s certainly not going to call Greg ‘Daddy’, not now, not ever, but. It’s sort of nice, being held like this, and despite the way Greg’s trousers feel like freshly scorched earth underneath his bum, it also feels. Safe. He disobeyed; he’s had his punishment; and now he gets to rest. He curls up a little more, sniffling against Greg’s chest. 

There’s a quiet  _ snick _ of a hook being released, and one of Alex’s hands creeps up to pet cautiously at his hip. James thinks about smacking it away petulantly, like he certainly would have before his spanking. Alex was really nice, though, kissing him during the worst of it, and after all it’s not like James can really blame him for doing all the stuff he does to get in Greg’s favour. He can’t exactly say he wouldn’t either. Hasn’t. Hasn’t either.

He reaches instead and pats it just gently before tucking both hands to his chest again.

“That was nice, wasn’t it?” Greg sounds pleased. It makes James feel very warm inside. “Both my boys, being so nice to each other. Do you want to say something to Alex, James?”

James sniffs hard. “Sorry I was so mean before. I didn’t mean it; I was just frustrated.”

“Not at all,” Alex says, voice very hoarse indeed. “Happy to help.”

“There.” Greg takes a hand off of James to pet Alex again. James whines until he puts it back. “And do you have something you’d like to say to me, James?”

James selects and discards several options before going for the one that won’t have him right back over Greg’s lap. “I’m sorry for disobeying.”

“I’m sure you are. And my thank you, for disciplining you?”

Only a little grudging, James says, “Thank you.”

“Eh?” Greg raises his eyebrows. “Sorry; thank you for what?”

James is going to burst into flames at any moment, he can tell. “Thank you for - disciplining me.”

“Well.” Greg settles back. “Not perfect, but that will come in time, won’t it Alex?”

Alex looks directly at James before he puts his head back down on Greg’s foot and says as primly as you please, “Yes, Daddy.”

James is going to  _ kill _ Alex Horne.

**Author's Note:**

> i am so so sorry about the d*ddy kink. it just kind of happened.


End file.
